The section of the River Forth west of Kincardine is often known as the Inner Forth. Certainly it's more of a river here than a firth although the tidal limit extends all the way to Stirling. The watercourse actually begins in Perthshire, flowing out of Loch Ard, near Aberfoyle. There are many interesting locations to explore along the banks and one place I'd had in mind for a while was Cambuskenneth Abbey. Lolling around a few days after Christmas, we decided a little excursion to the historical site would make a nice afternoon out.
Cambuskenneth is a village close to Stirling and easily reached from the A907. I had seen pictures of the Bell Tower which was apparently built in the 14th century and heavily restored in the 1860s. We found the building without difficulty and it is indeed a fine sight. It was one of these days where the light wasn't great but a brooding sky helped produce atmospheric photographs. An added bonus was the close presence of the famed Wallace Monument. It was one of the best views of the tall hilltop structure I'd ever seen. Unfortunately access to the abbey grounds is restricted to seasonal opening but I was happy to view the tower and graveyard from behind the iron railings. A fine stone archway led the way to the tombs. The other parts of the abbey appear to have been reduced to their foundations. We had a wander around the perimeter and enjoyed the views of the surrounding Ochil Hills.
I first climbed the 220-foot Wallace Monument as a boy scout in nineteen canteen. Built of sandstone, it was completed in 1869. I returned as an adult in the early 2000s and Braveheart mania was still lingering, I remember an American family loading up with souvenirs at the gift shop and I seem to recall the great man's famous sword affixed to the wall above a plaque which stated that in order to effectively wield such a weapon, one would have to be seven feet tall. Many experts now believe this sword was never actually in the possession of Wallace. It's a good story however and no doubt a few plastic replicas have been flogged over the years. The monument is visible from far and wide and I must make the effort to go back and chronicle my experiences in the new social-media age. One feature carved into the abbey's stonework grabbed my attention - a carved head and shoulders staring downwards. Most likely this functions as a gargoyle. I've always found these figures fascinating and one of my favourites is the bagpipe-playing pig at Melrose Abbey.
This petrified chap does look rather concerned about what's happening down below. Or maybe he just had too much to drink the night before. It was time to move further downstream and we drove to Cambus - a village which has a lovely little tea room. There was a more alcoholic aroma in the air due to the presence of a massive cooperage. It is owned by Diageo and the global drinks giant have all their whisky casks fashioned and repaired here. There is also a huge bonded warehouse - the largest in Europe - on site and around three million barrels of spirit are stored here. That explains why the surrounding trees have bark as black as coal. The escaping vapour has this effect on the vegetation. Unfortunately the early 19th-century A-listed cast-iron bridge over the River Devon is in a dilapidated state and closed to walkers. There are a couple of nice walks originating in Cambus: a stroll along the Forth to Alloa and an inland path to Menstrie following the route of an old freight railway. Today our destination was the Cambus Pools Nature Reserve - owned by the Scottish Wildlife Trust.
A wetland reserve with reed beds, grassland and open water, the pools attract waders, warblers and wildfowl. The sanctuary is located behind an industrial area on the inner estuary and serves to demonstrates how small pockets of land can become vital habitats for wildlife. A common visitor is the reed bunting. The pools are on riverside flats and are reckoned to have been separated from the River Forth by flood embankments since at least 1866. RSPB Black Devon lies three miles downstream between Alloa and Clackmannan. This reserve has an isolated feel as there are no immediate car-parking facilities. Footpaths lead out to the riverbank and a boardwalk has been constructed through the reed beds leading to a viewing screen. I came here last year on a sunny morning and was the only person around. I enjoyed listening to the birds chirping and the Ochils provide a stunning backdrop. I had a hairy experience on the outward leg when descending the slope behind Clackmannan Tower. It is a public right of way and cattle were grazing in the vicinity. Normally that's no problem - simply give them a wide berth. However I needed to exit via a style in the corner and that's where the bovine crowd had congregated. No worries - I reckoned I could quietly slip by.
All seemed to be going to plan and the cows seemed largely disinterested - until I heard hooves behind me. One beast had broken free from the group and was striding towards me at an alarming rate. Luckily I was close to the boundary fence preceded by a low ditch. I decided to swiftly bolt and jump across. As I did so the cow also accelerated and I had clearly been chased out of the field. I was a little shaken but no further worse for wear. On my return trek (skirting the base of the mound this time), I noticed the cattle had moved to a new position and I was probably simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Clackmannan Tower is only open to the public a couple of times a year and we managed to book a slot on Doors-Open Weekend. A chance for the public to view historic sites and buildings that are not normally accessible. There is also the opportunity to peek behind the scenes in more familiar locations. Thankfully the Fife and Clackmannanshire calendar slots don't clash and I try to visit a few places each year. We were given a fascinating tour of the tower's interior and a chance to take in the breathtaking views across several counties from the battlements.
The building is a 14th-century tower house and there are several such examples along this part of the Forth Valley. Nearby Alloa Tower is owned by the National Trust and fully accessible to the public. I have been for a look around and again climbed to the top, from where Clackmannan Tower is clearly visible. Perhaps the towers were built with defence in mind along a line of sight principle. This visit was particularly memorable for the chance to look down upon an inhabited rook's nest from close quarters. In stark contrast, the tower houses at Sauchie and Dunmore are now ruined. It is sometimes forgotten nowadays that the inner Forth was a hub of maritime activity in days gone by. Alloa had a working harbour until 1970 and the Kincardine Bridge formerly swung open to allow shipping through. This arrangement ceased in 1988. For much of the 20th century, Alloa could have been described as the brewing capital of Scotland. However, a succession of mergers and closures reduced the number of breweries to a couple of national concerns and they had left town by the late 90s. Today the only functioning ale producer is William Bros and they come highly recommended. A couple of lengthy waggonway tunnels run through the centre of Alloa. They are among the oldest in the country and make a great heritage walk. Coal was brought from inland pits by horse-drawn train to the water's edge from where it could be shipped to Europe-wide destinations.
Alloa was previously something of a rail hub but lost all its lines in the 1960s. Thankfully the service to Stirling has been restored and there is talk of extending this back to Dunfermline. A long forgotten fact about the inner Forth is that it featured the first railway crossing of the river, pre-dating the existing Forth Bridge by a number of years. Officially known as Alloa Swing Bridge, the central section opened to allow boats to pass. Closure came in 1970 and the decking was removed the following year. The piers still stand today and are easy to spot on Google maps. I first paid a visit on the Stirlingshire side, next to the village of Throsk. At the time you could simply walk down to the shore from the main road and almost touch the first stone pillar but private housing now stands in the way. Access is easier across the water in Clackmannanshire. A farm road takes you to the old approach embankment and you can look over the slightly curving path of the old bridge. Once again, the view from the floor of the Forth valley towards the Ochil Hills is breathtaking.
It's easy to look back at the Beeching cuts and say the whole thing was a disgrace. But it most be borne in mind the provincial railway network was dying on its arse. Lumbering steam locos were still widespread and ever increasing numbers of people were switching to private cars or using buses that were invariably cheaper and more frequent. There were many example of routes virtually duplicating each other (a legacy of Victorian companies trying to get ahead of the competition) and the seaside branch lines were only busy for a short period each year. Some pruning was necessary at the time. The signalling system was manually operated nationwide and must have been horrendously expensive to run. Stations were typically overstaffed. Something had to give. Beeching knew he would take a lot of flak for his appointment as the hatchet man. I once heard him say how those who vociferously campaigned against line closures often hadn't been using the bloody trains in the recent past. A similar phenomenon seems to occur when a football club is facing financial ruin. All sorts of folk come crawling out of the woodwork but are nowhere to be seen at an actual game (which probably contributed towards the problem in the first place). Having said all that, there were of course routes that should never have been ripped up and perhaps severe cost-cutting measures could have been tried before sending in the demolition crew. We live in a different world now where roads suffer increasingly from congestion and more people commute to work. Some of the decisions made 50 years ago seem short sighted in the current context. But retrospect wasn't available at the time.
A rail-mounted bus was actually trialled on several minor Scottish routes, including the line across the Alloa Swing Bridge but proved a case of too little, too late. Anyway, that was quite a digression but hopefully it gave you a flavour of my travels along the Inner Forth. Back at Cambus, we crossed the River Devon and made our way towards the pools. There were plenty of teal in evidence and I love their funky colour scheme. There was a handy bench overlooking the point where the Devon empties into the Forth. This is still tidal territory and there must be a convoluted current battle every day. The Ochil Hills stood proudly in the distance and the range of autumn and winter colours was pleasing to the eye. Certainly a different atmosphere to the rolling green of the summer months but just as conducive to good pictures. Light and shade of course tweak the emotive expressions. Today the sky was doleful but neither dim nor dull in character. Across the water inside a meander was a large area of land covered by serried ranks of buildings. Clearly not a township. What could it be?
The strange place is the site of the former Bandeath munitions store. The facility began as an admiralty depot during the first World War, with a nearby prisoner camp, after which it remained in use and became a Royal Naval Armament Depot (RNAD) during WW2. The compound appears to have been vacated sometime in the early 70s and the southern portion of the peninsula is now a light industrial park. I have explored the area on a couple of occasions. I parked at Throsk on a Sunday morning and walked out to the old buildings. They are easy to pick out on satellite maps, which also illustrate the regular arrangement of the houses. The most recent freely available OS map on the National Libraries of Scotland site shows merely open farmland. It was the policy back then not to provide detail of military installations. Overlaying a modern aerial image reveals a different story. I remember being bemused after tracing an isolated piece of railway on the map, near Inverkeithing, but apparently connected to nothing. I queried this on a Facebook group and discovered the tracks served defence concerns at each end. I came across rails set into the ground while walking through Bandeath yet none of this was presented to the public by Ordnance Survey who maintained the fiction into the 1960s.
The was able to stroll around the vast complex without any problems. Sheep are now grazed here and the woolly ones obviously wander into the buildings, judging by the amount of droppings inside. The storehouses are now more or less reduced to shells with occasional objects strewn around and notices posted on inner walls. I saw a couple of guys taking photographs when I entered but found myself alone as I criss-crossed the expansive terrain. I read the buildings were at one time surrounded by blast walls which have now been removed. I'm guessing their purpose was to direct the force of any explosion upwards and to avoid neighbouring ammo dumps being triggered. In the far corner of the field was a wooden pier with a rusting rail-mounted crane in situ. Supplies would have been loaded on to boats here and taken downstream through the Alloa Swing Bridge. The pier was in a ruinous state and I decided it would be too dangerous to try and reach the crane. A very interesting place to visit and I would recommend Bandeath to anyone looking for some entry-level urban exploring.
A nice walk on the south side is between the villages of Dunmore and South Alloa. There is a beautiful village green and ornamental well in Dunmore and the housing was originally built for estate workers - being way ahead of its time in terms of living conditions. The sprawling Dunmore House is further back from the river and now in a ruined condition. It's a fantastic place to visit and was in fact my introduction to exploring old mansions, having chanced upon it on a woodland walk. When looking across at Alloa from the south side, you see a juxtaposition of an industrial landscape with mountain scenery - which I find fascinating. South Alloa is a mere hamlet in Stirlingshire but it was the base for a passenger (and later vehicle) ferry across the Forth. This arrangement came to an end in 1939, shortly after the opening of the Kincardine Bridge. The rotting pier can still be identified today. Further along the shore towards Stirling stands the village of Fallin which features an open-air mining museum. Polmaise Colliery was located here and lasted until 1987 - the final deep pit in Stirlingshire. The late 80s was basically the final nail in the coffin for the industry that once drove the economy of the central belt. The few remaining collieries were snuffed out in the aftermath of the bitter miners' strike and coal was thereafter imported. The one exception was the mine at Longannet which supplied the power station. It was still open at the turn of the century when it succumbed to flooding.
Both my grandfathers were miners and as a schoolboy I remember seeing pit buses picking up workers in Lochgelly. I do recall the strike but my grasp of the politics behind it was weak as I was only around 14 at the time. It's a way of life now vanished forever and most traces of the industry have been removed from the surrounding landscape. There is a bing at Fallin now reclaimed and promoted as a country walk. Back in Cambus, we headed upstream along the Devon and a swan sailed past. Nothing unusual here, except I managed to snap the bird just as it was cocking its head, resulting in a rather snooty expression in the photo. This one proved fairly popular on Instagram. I could write much more about my travels along this stretch of water but hopefully this report will inspire someone to go out and have a look. You always end up learning something unexpected when you set out exploring.
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